


For what we strive

by Plume_Sombre



Series: SASO 2017 [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plume_Sombre/pseuds/Plume_Sombre
Summary: SASO 2017 prompt fills.





	1. haikise - Not so bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero AU

Kise has been told that he is the best shapeshifter hero since a long time, and that people like his smiles and his theatrics, even though some Miracles consider him childish. His powers extend to a wide range of transformations and he can turn any part of his body into something else. As long as he can do his job and he's rewarded for his feats, he's happy.  
  
What they didn't tell him was that they've never found the previous shapeshifter's body, and just assumed he died in a mission. Something involving bombs, he couldn't have survived an explosion or a burning building. But here he is, Haizaki Shougo, a scowl on his face and a scar marring his right eye, blatant fury blazing in his glare. Kise has often encountered nasty looks, but outright vicious is a first, especially coming from someone who is supposed to be his ally, and, well, _dead_.  
  
“You think you can waltz in and replace me like I was some rag?” Haizaki hisses. “This city needs powerful heroes, not some pretty boy playing pretend.”  
  
“What makes you think I'm playing pretend?” Kise retorts. “Aren't you the one who played dead?”  
  
And that seems to trigger the lock that was holding all the pent-up hatred, as Haizaki transforms his arm into a deadly scythe and lunges at Kise, all hero codes forgotten and safety cast aside. It's not even a fight, it's a revenge, and Kise can feel it; his opponent's blows aren't controlled, they lack the necessary aim to strike true and Haizaki seems to act on instincts rather than on logic. So Kise easily parries him, his left arm transformed into a shield and his right arm snaking around Haizaki, ivy constricting tightly. He doesn't even bat an eyelash while doing this, he's had his fair share of criminals attacking on impulse. He's more confused about Haizaki's behaviour than anything else.  
  
“Why are you fighting me? You know I'm better than you.”  
  
“Fuck off. You're nothing. I'm gonna take back what's mine.”  
  
“That doesn't make sense.”  
  
Haizaki keeps struggling against his binds, and Kise has to admit he's resilient, which shouldn't surprise him since he was a Miracle, but he can feel the stubbornness emitting from Haizak'is body like a veil to protect him. As if it justifies his actions, as if it explains everything. There is a bitter feeling he can't understand in any way.  
  
Kise releases him, making Haizaki stumble and nearly fall. This battle has no meaning to Kise; right now he could be arresting thieves or saving people, instead of spending his energy unncessarily on someone he doesn't even know. However, he's not a coward and never backs down from a challenge, se he crosses his arms over his chest, and smirks.  
  
“If you're so intent on becoming a Miracle again, then you'll have to prove you deserve your place,” he says. “People come and go frequently, after all, when someone stronger appears.”  
  
“I'll kill you with my bare hands,” Haizaki snarls.  
  
Maybe it's not that bad; maybe Kise's life is a bit too perfect, and lacks a spark to make him look forward to the next day. He could have done wihout the murderous scheme, but he supposes it could be worse.


	2. kagakuro - Screaming heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagerou Days AU. Character death.

Kuroko slowly wakes up. The morning sun on a summer day has never been kind on him; the heavy air and the heat don't sit well with him, and if he could he would go back right to sleep. The clock displays twelve something—how did he sleep that much? He also meets Kagami in the afternoon for a friendly game of basketball, despite the scorching heat that threatens to make Kuroko melt on the spot. It's only because they're best friends that Kuroko makes any effort at moving out of bed.  
  
The walk to the park they agreed on feels strangely familiar. It's not the first time they practice in that particular court, but today emits an odd aura, like he's supposed to remember something important. Maybe it's really too hot, and it's affecting his mind, as he usually is more careful about this kind of things. Everyone has off-days, this shouldn't be much of an issue.  
  
When he sees Kagami shooting balls, already drenched in sweat but still glowing, he smiles. Always so dedicated to the sport. Kuroko approaches, and for once his friend doesn't leap to the next planet when he notices Kuroko at his side. After years of friendship, he mostly learned how not to get startled by his weak presence.  
  
“You should go easy today, my brain feels fried,” Kuroko says in his usual monotone voice.  
  
“Eh, it's fine,” Kagami replies. “Just hot, I can deal with that.”  
  
“August is the hottest month of Japan, but you already know that.”  
  
Perhaps being born on August gave some special abilities to Kagami to bear the heat, in the same way Kuroko isn't easily fazed by the cold. Kagami's grin is bright, as bright as the sun, and he resumes his shooting while Kuroko warms up a bit.  
  
They spend the whole afternoon playing. Even as evening draws closer, the weather doesn't get any cooler and by the end of their session, they are both exhausted, sweating and in dire need of some rest. Kagami picks up the ball, tosses a thanks at Kuroko for the time together, and steps out of the park. Kuroko follows him, and the moment he puts a foot on the sidewalk, everything comes back to him.  
  
He doesn't have the time to scream or to stretch out a hand. The tires of a truck screech and then he sees red, not like the red he's accustomed to, this is a bright, bright red, blinding and paralyzing him. Suddenly he remembers that this is real, that this isn't the first time, and when he looks up from the disfigured body of Kagami, he catches sight of a black cat smirking at him.

* * *

He jolts awake in his bed, at twelve something under the beating sun, panting and not quite rested from the night's sleep. He squeezes the sheets in his hands, scared and confused, not knowing what he should remember and what he should look out for. He's meeting Kagami today.  
  
The calendar shows him it's August 14th. There is nothing particular on that date, right?  
  
He gets prepared to leave, a buzzing sound still ringing in his ears. He doesn't feel good; he can still cancel his plans with Kagami, but that won't be fair to him. He sighs, though he still leaves.  
  
The uneasiness doesn't go away and keeps churning his stomach. Seeing Kagami play with his ball gives him a heavier sense of dread instead of appeasing him like he thought it would. Kuroko swallows, the action scratching at his dry throat.  
  
“You are going to think I'm crazy, but it feels like déjà-vu,” he whispers, not looking him in the eyes. “I had a dream we were practicing in this park, and I have a bad feeling about it.”  
  
Kagami stops, stares at him and raises an eyebrow, intrigued and probably puzzled; it's not every day that Kuroko makes such weird remarks, and it does give the whole atmosphere a creepy feel.  
  
“What do you wanna do, then?” Kagami asks.  
  
“I don't know.” Kuroko shakes his head. “We can go drink something cold to fight this heat.”  
  
“Sounds good to me.”  
  
Kuroko has never seen Kagami comply so fast in canceling a basketball practice, which leaves him a bit perplexed but he's glad he can escape the awful area.  
  
He thinks he hears a metallic noise above him, so he looks up. A second later Kagami dashes past him, as if drawn to it, and the scream filling the air sounds horrifyingly like his, or Kagami's, or anybody's, and the bright red springs back, dotting the ground and Kagami's body and Kuroko's face, just as a black cat crosses the street, as if it was taunting him.

* * *

He's almost crying when he flies out of bed, running to meet his best friend. He grabs his hand, doesn't explain himself and drags him to another place, safer than the park or the sidewalk, but then he gets startled by a cat (black, black), lets go of Kagami's hand, takes a step back and nearly falls down the stairs. He should have, if not for the yell of Kagami dropping backwards, and he goes down, down, down—  
  
Kuroko sees pasts and futures he doesn't remember, scorching sun and smirking realities, and though he has no control over them, he can at least decide his own fate.  
  
On August 15th he plays with Kagami, lets the course of events unfold, until he steps in to break the winning streak of the heat, and instead of seeing bright red he sees blazing blue and warm red, and the shocked expression on Kagami's face. While his lips curl upward, relieved, Kagami suddenly becomes somber, but Kuroko can't decipher it before darkness claims him.

* * *

On August 15th a snake seizes the hearts of many people, twisting them in the way it desires, and it strikes deals. It eats their despair and their hope, and when this young man with fiery eyes asks for a means to save the person dearest to him, it can't help but laugh. It offers powers in exchange for lives, or a life for a life.  
  
Kagami failed yet again, but not anymore.


	3. himukise - Fahrenheit

They should stop meeting in the middle of the night, after everyone’s eyes are turned away from them. The moonlight can offer only that much light and warmth, after all, though neither of them truly gets cold.  
  
Himuro smiles at Kise and gestures him into his apartment, clean and way too big for one person to live in. It’s one of these apartments that are reserved for celebrities and that normal people can’t afford unless they sell their body parts, and honestly Himuro doesn’t see the attractiveness of it. The walls are of a cream color, probably to give the impression it’s a comfortable and cosy environment, the furniture is harmoniously in deep red and grey, and the light casts a thin layer of white ice on everything. There is nothing extravagant or particularly amazing.  
  
Kise’s apartment shows similar features, but he says that Himuro’s is better. Himuro jokingly said that it was because of his presence, and Kise, with a bright smile, didn’t deny.  
It’s almost two am, but they don’t care. Himuro pours two cups of tea that he puts on the coffee table, and they sit on the couch, too close to share body warmth on this summer day, but not close enough to fill the gap in their hearts. Legs brushing and shoulders bumping, they talk. They talk about today’s events, how annoying that one manager is (always trying to arrange a photoshoot with the model he’s working for), how blinding the new spotlights in the C room are, how Koizumi-san’s curry almost killed everyone with spiciness. They’ve only worked together a handful of times, maybe thrice for a photoshoot and twice for a drama, but the years of basketball they share are enough to bridge the gap and make them feel like old friends.  
Maybe they are.  
Everyone leads their own life, some of them more successful than others, and time and distance aren’t easy to handle in a world where they used to be surrounded by friends, and more friends.  
  
The cups of tea are always too hot to drink them right away, so they often forget about them. Sometimes because cold tea is disgusting (the leaves are still at the bottom of the cup), other times because they get distracted. There has never been a clear agreement on what they’re doing—their bodies move on their own accord, reacting to what is ministered to them, grasping for more. Kise likes to let his fingers trail on Himuro's hips, and Himuro likes to cup Kise's face in his hands. Each touch burns. It keeps them alive.  
  
Summer is the only season they’re so frequently together, and the heat in August rarely decreases (they keep making tea though, even if they don’t drink it). They’re looking for something, but they don’t know what, but for now Himuro supposes that loneliness can’t be that bad if he shares it with someone.


	4. nijihai - That don't impress me much

He thinks he's all great and impressive when he's just a stupid guy who wants to pass for a tough man but with a perfect reputation. Which is stupid as hell. Haizaki hasn't even been in the club for two weeks that the captain's already pissing him off.  
  
He hears the girls gossiping about how cool and handsome Nijimura-san is, how athletic he is, how nice it must be to be in his arms! Shut the fuck up. Would these girls still say that about him if they knew how much of a tyrant he is during practice? Nobody can be liked if they're treating their teammates like shit!  
  
Some people in life have it all, and others have nothing at all. Haizaki knows it well, but instead of pitying himself he prefers watching the lucky ones and looking for ways to destroy them. Nijimura doesn't scare him, he can take him on any day of the week.  
  
"Oi Haizaki, the floor isn't going to get mopped by itself."  
  
"What are you, my boss?" Haizaki growls.  
  
"No, I'm your captain, you punk."  
  
Nijimura is glaring at him, arms crossed as if he owns the place. Haizaki briefly wonders how the third years are so accepting of a second-year captain, but judging by the amused looks some of them are sporting, they seem to be as stupid as the girls fawning over Mister Handsome.  
  
"Whatever, I'm not taking orders from anyone," he snorts.  
  
"Haizaki, watch out—"  
  
At the start of the week, he had told himself that he would outplay Nijimura during practice at least once a day—to prove that this guy was nothing more than an average player trying to be fearsome. Needless to say that his attempts at dribbling past a strong power forward who charges into the other half of the court is extremely difficult, and blocking that bull charge is even more impossible a task (not that he'd admit it out loud, what the hell). So when Nijimura grabs him by the collar, swings his leg to hit him in the ankles and makes him gracelessly end up on his butt like a boneless doll, he knows he majorly fucked up.  
  
“Next time, you will think twice before saying shit like that,” Nijimura calmly states, though his eyes promise blood and murder should his words not be taken seriously.  
  
For a few seconds Haizaki is just staring into the void, clearly not realizing that he got his ass handed to him in the most ridiculous record time ever, in front of a dozen people.  
But then it sparks his anger and he snarls.  
  
“I'm going to kill you!”  
  
Nijimura's shrug annoys him even more. Who does he think he is?  
  
“You can try, maybe in ten years.”  
  
Haizaki swears he's going to wipe this smirk off his face.  
  
Just wait.


	5. midotakakise - 8pm

Shintarou, whenever he comes home at 8pm sharp, is always greeted with the bright smile of Kazunari who was waiting for him. No matter how many times he's told him not to keep doing everything by himself in the house, Kazunari won't listen and say that he's happy to welcome his husbands home with a warm meal and a smile because that's what husbands do. Shintarou isn't convinced at all, since a certain husband acts like a child, but he has known Kazunari long enough to recognize when he lost a battle.  
  
Kazunari's cooking is the best among the three of them, that is undeniable; Shintarou is a catastrophe in the kitchen (everything he prepares is somehow touched by the Curse of Inedible Food), and Ryouta is too lazy to cook something proper that doesn't involve a lot of shouting at the ingredients. So yes, alright, maybe Kazunari doesn't really have a choice in that department.  
  
“Ryou-chan is sleeping, he said he needed a nap,” Kazunari says.  
  
“A nap before dinner?” Shintarou grumbles.  
  
“Well, you know how he is when there's a photoshoot scheduled every day of the week.” Kazunari shrugs. “Can you wake him up?”  
  
“Why me?”  
  
Kazunari's smile turns sly. “Because he likes it when you wake him up!”  
  
Shintarou rolls his eyes and doesn't bother asking what Kazunari means by that. He goes into their bedroom, his footsteps as light as possible even though he doesn't need to, and he finds a curled up Ryouta in the middle of the bed, wrapped in the blanket and snoring. Shintarou can already hear shrill complaints of 'I don't snore!', so he prefers keeping that comment to himself to avoid busting his ears.  
  
“Ryouta,” he says, shaking the heap with careful strength.  
  
When he hears mumbling he tries again. Ryouta has always been a light sleeper, so waking him is generally an easy affair; Shintarou is surprised that the smell coming from the kitchen didn't make him twitch.  
  
He opens his bleary eyes and blinks at Shintarou, drowsiness still heavily etched into his mind. It's always a spectacle to watch Kise Ryouta trying to fight off sleep, struggling to keep his eyes open while smoothing his features into something more dignified, and it never fails to make Shintarou smile in amusement.  
  
“Get up, dinner is almost ready,” he tells him.  
  
Ryouta nods, and slowly his lips are pulling upwards. “Coming.”  
  
Shintarou then goes back into the living room to help Kazunari, who is still grinning. Shintarou arches an eyebrow.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You have that soft look again, and it's really adorable!” Kazunari snickers.  
  
“Don't say stupid things.”  
  
“Kazunari is right, Shintarou!”  
  
Ryouta is also smiling like a fool. He takes three bowls and fills them with rice, humming all the while.  
  
“It's the soft look that means you  _loove_  us,” Kazunari singsongs.  
  
“Shintarou is a softie!” Ryouta adds.  
  
Kazunari bumps his shoulder against Shintarou's, and even if these idiots can get annoying when they show their own brand of affection, Shintarou wouldn't have it another way.


	6. nijihai + kise - Try Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel: Go tell him he's cute. What's the worst that could happen ?  
> Monica: He could hear me.  
> ― Friends

Kise is biting the inside of his cheeks to not laugh at Haizaki's irritated glare. His face is twisting into nasty features that are screaming his dilemma—even though Kise likes to think this is just his stupidity taking a visible form.  
  
“Come on, don't be scared,” he snickers.  
  
“I'm not  _scared_ , you bastard,” Haizaki grunts.  
  
“You are.”  
  
“I'm not!”  
  
“Then why don't you just do things like you always do? As in, charge into the problem and think later?”  
  
While all of this is very funny and is providing him with an entertaining spectacle, Kise can't grasp the concept of bullheaded Haizaki Shougo hesitating on anything, especially diplomacy and human contact. When was the last time Haizaki actually considered his words before speaking? When they were ten and he was trying to tell him that his photoshoot was weirdly good?  
  
“Because he'll think I want to pick a fight,” Haizaki replies with a roll of his eyes, and takes an aggressive sip of his shake.  
  
“Well, we did stalk him for the past two days, he has every reason to believe that,” Kise points out. He glances to the side, where a table away, the target of their mission is sitting with his friends. “So just go and tell him he's cute. What's the worst that could happen?”  
  
“I dunno, he could hear me? And think I'm batshit crazy?”  
  
“He already thinks you're batshit crazy, and he's not wrong.”  
  
Haizaki throws a fry at Kise, who simply laughs and catches it. Sweet, young love...  
  
“If you're not going to do it, I will!” And Kise leaps out of his chair.  
  
“What the fuck—Ryouta, you shit!”  
  
The most surprising thing in that kind of situation is that, by thinking they're discreet about the whole affair, they're actually not, and Nijimura Shuuzou's friends seem to have noticed the ruckus since they get up from their chairs in a similar fashion as Kise, a yelling Nijimura ready to make blood spill. Kise is grinning, makes eye contact with the black-haired man (Konda? Kurota?) and nods. The two of them return the gesture.  
  
Friendship based on helping a hopeless guy with a crush.  
  
“Nijimura-san! I'm sure you remember me, I often come with Shougo-kun to the basketball practice!”  
  
Nijimura whips his head around so fast Kise thought he was going to kill him instead, but when his eyes settle on Haizaki behind Kise, he seems to change his mind.  
Haizaki is the one in danger, now.  
  
“Yeah, the model?” he says, eyes slightly narrowed.  
  
“That's me!”  
  
“What do you want? I've got places to be, guys to kill.”  
  
Kise looks at the retreating backs of the two men, and doesn't miss the way their shoulders are shaking.  
  
“That's unfortunate, Shougo-kun has something to tell you—ow!”  
  
“Stop fucking talking, you look even more stupid!”  
  
“That's mean!”  
  
Kise rubs his head, seriously considering telling Haizaki that hitting a model anywhere on the upper part of the body is prohibited, because hello, he needs to be perfect? One look at Nijimura informs him that this encounter is about to get either bloody, either romantic, so he decides to make a quick exit and leaves the issue for later.  
  
“Shougo-kun gets shy when people are listening to what he says, so I'm leaving you guys alone, bye bye!”  
  
“I'm going to hunt you down—”  
  
And Kise waltzes out of the area, following his senpai's example and disappears.  
  
“Friends are the worst,” Nijimura mutters.  
  
“I should have strangled him,” Haizaki grumbles.  
  
They stay silent for a moment. Haizaki honestly thinks that bailing out now is a good idea, especially since Nijimura is in bad mood. Nobody wants to deal with a Nijimura in a bad mood.  
  
“So, what did you want to tell me?”  
  
Haizaki jumps out of his skin at the unexpected question, asked in a normal and perfectly calm voice. He raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Nothing in particular. That idiot was saying bullshit.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Haizaki's heart is beating really, really fast, and while insulting Nijimura would be the best way to get out of here, he thinks that would negate the previous days' efforts at making progress.  
  
“I've got tickets for a basketball match next week. You wanna go?”  
  
And if the incredulous look on Nijimura's face isn't the most insulting thing ever, Haizaki doesn't know what is.  
  
“Don't look at me like that, just say no if you don't wanna,” he sputters.  
  
“I wasn't expecting that from you, that's all,” Nijimura replies. “You can actually be a decent human being and ask stuff nicely.”  
  
“Shut up, you coming or what? I'll just go with Ryouta otherwise.”  
  
Nijimura shrugs. “Why not, it can be fun.”  
  
Haizaki is pretty sure that Kise is laughing like a whale, hiding somewhere near their table. He really is going to strangle him.  
  
“Cool,” he says to Nijimura. “I'll give you the ticket and the details tomorrow at practice.”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
Nijimura looks around, probably wondering if his friends truly ditched him, and then he smirks.  
  
“How do you feel about a food contest? We can eat for free that giant hamburger if we finish it under twenty minutes.”  
  
Haizaki has always wanted to try that challenge (one kilo of meat in a hamburger, who wouldn't want to try?), so he grins.  
  
“You're on. Loser has to pay for the winner's food next week.”  
  
A few meters away, Kise is smiling, and he exchanges high-fives with Kubota and Sekiguchi.


	7. midokise - Beliefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With kindness comes naïveté. Courage becomes foolhardiness. And dedication has no reward."   
> — Homura Akemi (Madoka Magica)
> 
> Hitmen AU.

Midorima jots down the last remark of the autopsy, and sighs. It's only April and there are already more than twenty deaths on their side; Akashi really needs to do something to make their rival company stay away from their missions. He doesn't particularly like taking care of patients on the verge of dying every day. Granted, this is his job and he knew what was coming when he accepted the contract, but seeing them actually die is never a funny experience, especially after hours of trying to keep them alive. He's drained and only wants to collapse on his bed.  
  
“Why the long face, Midorimacchi?”  
  
Midorima sighs even louder and turns around, squinting at Kise's bright smile and his shining eyes.  
  
“You are not allowed to enter this room without permission.”  
  
“Ehh, don't be like that, I'm your friend!” Kise chuckles.  
  
Kise has no concept of personal space and stands too close to Midorima to peer at the body. He isn't fazed by anything, and looks at everything with a happy face, lives what is thrown at him without blinking and barges into people's lives like a bull. He is honestly the worst kind of person in Midorima's opinion, but somehow they're always stuck together—Kise always comes back to him, ever since they met four years ago.  
  
“I knew that guy,” Kise says. “He was way too optimistic. He thought he could save everyone, but why would you want to save people when you're a hitman? That's stupid.”  
  
Kise looks at him, an amused glint dancing in his eyes, and Midorima can't avert his own eyes from this hypnotic yellow.  
  
“People have their own reasons for joining Akashi's company,” Midorima replies with a shrug. “They're not necessarily blood lovers like you.”  
  
“Huh. This is kind of naive, don't you think?”  
  
What is naive, in this? People thinking they can survive without spilling blood? Survive long enough to regret nothing in life? Taking what they need from the company and going on with their life? Midorima hasn't thought that far ahead. He is just working under Akashi's orders, patching people up and hoping for minimal death count.  
  
“Just because they are soft-hearted does not mean they are naive,” he says instead.  
  
“I've never seen someone kind who isn't naive,” Kise counters, a faint line drawn between his brows. “They're always saying stuff about staying human, and being courageous for jumping into the action to save lives. You don't have to think to do that.”  
  
For a moment Midorima wonders if Kise is truly scolding these people for having a split second hesitation to put themselves in danger for others' sake, but then his smile turns into a smirk, the same kind he displays when he's hunting his prey and dead set on catching it.  
  
“I mean, if you die in the process, what good would that do? If you keep saying you want to save people but then die, you won't even see the result of your dedication. That's why I say it's stupid. You're a killer—you can't be a killer and a savior.”  
  
Kise shrugs, as if his reasoning was the only one. He lost interest in the body lying before him as soon as he began talking about something else, and he's just leaning against Midorima, who has given up on telling him off a long time ago. Call him insane, but this is something constant in his life now—the weight of Kise invading his personal space, the chattering that stops only when duty requires either one of them, the childish smile that doesn't match his actions. Midorima has become used to all these particular details, and maybe it's the closest to being alive since the day he lost Takao.  
  
Even though Kise is a constant, it doesn't mean Midorima completely lost his mind.  
  
(He hopes so.)  
  
“Are you saying that I should never go on missions, and stay holed up in my office?” he asks quietly, not moving an inch.  
  
“You probably don't know how to properly fight,” Kise snickers. “Yeah, keep patching us up, you're better at this. Don't try too hard though, like with this guy, because sometimes when something is lost, it's lost.”  
  
It's been years, and Midorima already learned that.  
  
Maybe he's the naive one to think that he can live happily with only what he has.


	8. midotaka + miyaji - Pineapple'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyaji in the club room with the pineapple.

To be quite honest, Miyaji always threatens to throw pineapples at anyone who annoys him, but nobody thinks he’d ever do it. What they don’t know is that he keeps a nice pineapple in his locker, under his folded clothes, ready to tear to shreds whoever stupid enough to cross the line of stupidity.  
  
Right now, he thinks he’s going to use for the first his secret weapon.  
  
He was waiting for Yuuya to come out after his talk with Ootsubo—some captain talk for next year. With nothing to do, he sat on a bench in the club-room, thinking everyone else went home, and that’s when he hears it.  
  
“Come on Shin-chan, nobody is looking!”  
  
You see, when people are alone in a club-room and that the only other available room is the showers, they’re bound to imagine the worst, and in this particular case Miyaji just knows he’s going to kill someone. With the pineapple. How does mashed first years with a pineapple dressing sound?  
  
“How many times do I have to say no?”  
  
“You’re no fun, live a little! It’s just me!”  
  
“This is inappropriate.”  
  
 _I’ll show you what’s inappropriate_ , Miyaji thinks, his fingers twitching and thirsting for some blood. Did these guys even consider the consequences of what they're doing? What if someone else stepped into the room and heard their ridiculous  _banter_? A third year who would laugh at them for the rest of the year? Another stupid first year who would blackmail them?  
  
At least Miyaji is just going to beat them up to shake a bit what is supposed to be their brain.  
  
Midorima should be smarter than that. Miyaji is unfazed by Takao’s behavior because that brat is, well, a brat, and he doesn’t listen to anyone. It’s astonishing they’re always attached at the hip—should he wonder how Midorima can stand Takao, or the other way around?  
  
“I promise I won’t laugh.”  
  
“You’re going to laugh, don’t lie.”  
  
“Shin- _chaaan_.”  
  
Miyaji hears a loud and exasperated sigh, and he knows that Midorima lost. Midorima is always losing.  
  
For a few seconds there is no sound. Then Midorima’s deep voice rise, angrier than he’s ever heard.  
  
“’Useless first years, who do you think you are? Are you calling this a screen? Two laps, now! Don’t argue! Midorima, don’t leave your shitty toys around, I’m going to smash them! Takao stop laughing like an idiot and go run like the others, you’re a first year too!’”  
  
This is beyond what Miyaji thought it was.  
  
This is a declaration of war.  
  
Takao doesn’t even have the time to open his big mouth and chortle that Miyaji barges into the showers, and throws the pineapple at random. He hears a yell and may have hit Takao in the shoulder, but truthfully he doesn’t care.  
  
“I'm going to skin you alive, you punks!”  
  
Then he registers the fact these idiots are only wearing a towel around theirs waists, and that's the last straw.  
  
“Get dressed and go the fuck home! Do I have to hold your hand for that, too?!”  
  
Midorima and Takao duck their heads, and do as they're told, though Miyaji catches a snigger or two.  
  
They're so dead tomorrow.


	9. haikise - Paopu fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haizaki on destiny island with a paopu fruit.

Shougo is sitting on the large tree that’s covering half the road. He’s always thought it kind of looks weird with its horizontal trunk thick enough to crack the skull of anyone bashing their head against it (who would do that? not him), and then it bends and reaches towards the sky, as if it’s keeping an eye on the island with its gigantic leaves. It has become the symbol of their island; a weird-ass tree that produces star-shaped yellow fruits. Since he was a kid Shougo kept hearing stories about the magical power this fruit had, or the healthy properties it apparently had, or the stupid legend about people being eternally bound if they eat it together. Shougo isn't the kind of guy who believes in that; this is more of Shintarou's genre and no way in hell that Shougo is going to associate with him. He's not insane.  
  
He has a paopu fruit right now in his lap, though he isn't looking at it. He has to admit this tree is pretty nice to relax on and for admiring the view. The ocean is big and clear, the blue of the sky reflecting on it and illuminating the whole island with pretty colors. Yeah, he has to stop hanging out with Ryouta.  
  
“Shougo-kun, do you want to come train with us?”  
  
Shougo resists the urge to snap because whenever he spars with Daiki he somehow always makes a fool of himself, like tripping and getting hit in the face, and honestly he's sick of being on the receiving end of Ryouta's jokes and laughing. Somewhat.  
  
“No, I don't want to hang out with you losers,” he says.  
  
They've known each other for over ten years, so of course Ryouta doesn't take offense and laughs. He climbs on the trunk and sits next to him, as usual invading his personal space like it didn't exist for a reason, and looks at him with fucking sparkling eyes.  
  
“You're going to come anyway.”  
  
He says this on such a confident tone that Shougo feels exposed and naked under his gaze. There's nothing provocative, just a raw statement and the distinct belief that it can't go wrong.  
  
“I'm coming just to see you getting your ass handed to you,” Shougo replies, looking away.  
  
This brings a grin on Ryouta's face, the kind that promises mischief, blossoming under the right circumstances.  
  
“I haven't eaten something sweet in a while, so I'll buy you paopu cake if I lose, but if I win  _you_  buy me paopu cake!”  
  
Ryouta then hops over the tree and goes back to the beach. Shougo rolls his eyes, puts down the paopu fruit on the tree, and follows Ryouta.  
  
Ryouta could have as well told him he wanted to eat the fruit.


	10. nijihimu - Negatives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himuro in a darkroom with negatives to be developed.

Shuuzou shuffles around the room, careful not to trip over anything—he has never seen this room clean and tidy even once, and had the unfortunate privilege on many occasions to knock bottles and boxes over. There is that one time he tried to put some order in the different piles, or at least tried to make steady piles of papers instead of leaving them precariously on the corner of a table, but his efforts lasted for two days before a hurricane decided to scatter everything again. Shuuzou gave up immediately.  
  
Tatsuya is leaning over a basin with his latest negatives, humming a song they heard on the radio on the ride home. He’s in a good mood; Shuuzou can understand, as they haven’t seen each other for a few weeks. Tatsuya likes his freedom and his autonomy, traveling wherever he wants to take photos and then bringing back memories for Shuuzou to see. He recounts every detail of what he’s discovered, talks about his favorites and mentions what Shuuzou would have loved if he had been with him. This situation might sound unpractical and slightly frustrating, but Shuuzou would prefer seeing Tatsuya happy rather than keeping him on the same ground as him.  
  
Tatsuya explained to him multiple times how to develop photos from scratch, but Shuuzou’s brain honestly couldn’t remember at all what the different products did and in what order they were used, so he simply watches Tatsuya do his magic.  
  
He’s hanging the pictures on a thread to let them dry, and  _that_  is something Shuuzou can do. He stands beside him, and picks up one of the photo. The picture is still pitch-black; he has to admit it’s incredible how a picture can come to life with bursting colors when it was at the beginning only a patch of black.  
  
“These are going into our personal collection,” Tatsuya says, smiling.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“It’s the pictures from last month’s game. I asked Taiga to take them.”  
  
Shuuzou remembers. A thrilling game with Kagami, Kubota, Sekiguchi, Alex and Haizaki, one they haven’t played in a long time. It would be nice to have photos of this day lying around the apartment, yeah.  
  
Shuuzou looks to the side, and sees, tacked on the wall, one photo of them doing faces at the camera (with some building of New York in the background), and next to it a much more serious one—in front of the convenient store, they’re grinning and holding beers. This was the day Tatsuya got featured in a magazine for his work.  
  
Shuuzou drapes an arm over Tatsuya’s shoulders and chuckles, just content to be there for the birth of these memories.


	11. himukise - Paint away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himuro crouched by a brick wall with pots of glittery paint and a brush.

“You're going to do it?”  
  
“We've traveled for two hours to come here, it would be stupid if I turned back.”  
  
Kise laughs and admits that  _he_  wouldn't want to go back without accomplishing anything. It's a nice evening; people are milling around, content to return to their warm homes on this cold day of winter, cars are not busting their ears with unnecessary klaxons, and it's snowing. Snow makes everything much more pretty, covering the air with a gentle veil and pushing forth a soothing spell. Kise likes snow.  
  
The weather isn't the best for what Himuro has come for though, but even if it bothers him, he doesn't show it. The different pots of paint are aligned against the wall, forming a rainbow that contrasts with the brown of the bricks. Kise didn't see the utility of bringing so many pots, but Himuro said it was for style; it wouldn't leave that much of an impact if he only used one color, right?  
  
“Do you know what you're going to write?” Kise asks, crouching beside Himuro.  
  
Himuro already has his brush dipped into the purple glittery paint, a beautiful color that suits him so well that seeing him with it makes a perfectly normal picture. He shrugs, hovering the brush over the bricks, and then with a flick of his wrist he splashes the paint on it. The dots are shining, running down the bricks and leaving behind them a path of glitter barely visible. Like suddenly possessed by inspiration, Himuro goes on; he washes the brush in a pot filled with water, and then chooses the color red. He draws lines, some of them straight and others curved, all the while avoiding the purple glitter that seems to be in the center of his piece.  
  
Kise doesn't understand what he's aiming at, but he can't help chuckling when the yellow diamonds and circles sit next to the first dots of paint. He admires the way Himuro's hand never falters, the way his fingers are gripping the brush in a firm yet gentle squeeze, manifesting the softness of his movement and the chaos of his painting. Kise doesn't dare interrupting him.  
  
The bricks are covered in colors and glitter, a canvas of blurs and raw emotions. Himuro looks satisfied; he's never had any particular talent for art but from what Kise has seen, his skills are more than enough to feel pride upon catching sight of his works.  
  
With one last stroke of black over the background of colors, Himuro signs it.  
  
“This is it, then,” he announces.  
  
Kise flashes him a thumbs up and a grin, and the glint in Himuro's eyes is as fierce and intense as the shine in the paint.  
  
They shove the pots in their luggage and turn around, never looking back. They link their hands.  
  
 _'One day, but not today.'_  
  
The inscription on the bricks are the last words they leave behind them.


	12. haikise - There again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haizaki in the Shepherds' tent with a broadsword.  
> (Fire Emblem Awakening)

Ryouta isn’t very proud of his past deeds, but they’re what built his experience and his current skills so he can’t truly discard them as if they didn’t happen. He was a pathetic thief before joining Prince Shuuzou’s Shepherds, lost in the streets among many other people just as helpless as him. Naturally, they tended to stick together, and rely on each other to survive. Not that it implied they were a tight-knit group.  
  
This is why he’s genuinely surprised to learn the latest news circulating in the camp, disbelief painted on his face whenever someone confirms his inquiries and then he sets off to look for that person. He’s striding into tents like a tornado, leaving as soon as he sees that it was the wrong one, ignoring the questioning glances the other Shepherds throw at him.  
  
It then occurs to him that people can’t change that much in the span of two years (what a hypocrite), so he heads to the one tent he’s sure he will find him.  
  
And indeed, Shougo is examining a sword, one they just recently acquired.  
  
Ryouta frowns.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be touching things that aren’t yours,” he says.  
  
Shougo’s raised eyebrow when he turns around signifies he already knew Ryouta was with the Shepherds. This piece of information doesn’t trouble Ryouta as much as he thought it would, given the way they carried out their missions when they were together—fishing for information and making people talk were their specialty, and Ryouta has a fleeting feeling of nostalgia coursing through him.  
  
“You’d know I’m always stealing people’s stuff,” Shougo laughs. “This broadsword is exactly one of the swords my last employer wanted.”  
  
“And you want to steal it to give it to him?”  
  
“Nah, too troublesome. I wasn’t paid the amount he promised because of one fucking missing sword, he’s a bastard.”  
  
Shougo is tracing the curve of the sword, grinning slightly, as he thoroughly looks at it, like it’s the best treasure he’s found in years. Ryouta remembers how fascinated Shougo was by swords, daggers, knives, or anything that can cut down people—they’re his weapon of choice, and he’s damn skilled at it.  
  
Ryouta takes a deep breath, and steps forward.  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
And Shougo’s eyes shift, the glimmer of passion transforming into one of mischief, as his lips tug upwards in a smirk. He brandishes the broadsword and points it at Ryouta’s neck. Ryouta doesn't flinch.  
  
“I guess I was curious, felt the need to discover the world from another angle, and shit. You disappeared and never came back. Why?”  
  
“We got separated during our last mission and  _you_  never showed up at any of our hideouts. Why?”  
  
Days of crawling in dirty streets, injured with no support, hopeful gazes directed at crowds expecting to see a familiar face. Ryouta doesn’t wish to relive those days where he has truly been scared; scared of having failed, or having being left behind like a rag doll.  
  
Shougo’s smirk vanishes, but his eyes are still burning with something akin to disdain and, dare he say, weariness.  
  
“Shuuzou pays well, and he feeds us. I just have to fight. I don’t see why I shouldn’t stay.”  
  
He lowers his hand, and holds the handle out to Ryouta. The latter takes it, silently, and stares at him. Shougo grins.  
  
“See ya later, Ryouta.”  
  
He brushes past Ryouta, waving his hand in farewell, and Ryouta swallows back the feeling of dread he’s been overwhelmed with for the past hours.  
Everything’s alright.


	13. GoM - Russian roulette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko in the basement with the revolver.

Kagami is flipping his lighter open and close, watching this group of people huddled around a small table. He is supposed to make sure they do what they're told, but given how grave their expressions are and how cold the atmosphere is, he doubts his presence is required.  
  
Kuroko is loading the gun. He places one bullet, spins the cylinder, and snaps it close. He is looking as disinterested as ever, eyes not even flickering with an ounce of fear.  
  
The others are showing more emotions, though they look just as dispassionate and calm as Kuroko. Kagami doesn't understand.   
  
"One bullet, one death," Kuroko announces. "This is your punishment. You can't run away from it."   
  
"You already made it pretty clear this morning," Aomine mutters.   
  
"I'm not happy with this situation, but I guess we saw it coming," Kise says with a humorless laugh.  
  
"We are not going to subtract ourselves from this predicament," Akashi asserts with a firm voice. "I am going first."  
  
Akashi takes the gun. Kagami watches as everyone follows every single move Akashi makes with bated breath--if the gun fires the bullet, it will become the most anticlimactic Russian roulette he's ever seen.  
  
Nobody seems worried. They look as if they know Akashi will escape death. Midorima is looking particularly confident.   
  
Akashi puts the gun to his temple, and pulls the trigger. The distinct  _click_  makes everyone suddenly flinch, but when no blood is spilled, they regain their composure. Kagami has stopped playing with his lighter, more interested in what is unfolding before his eyes. One of them is going to die because of a mistake they did as a group; no need to get rid of so many people at once if they can break them little by little.   
  
Akashi puts down the gun on the table, and Kuroko nods in approval. He then hands it to the nearest person, Murasakibara. That giant is someone Kagami has never understood, so when the gun is carelessly taken from Kuroko's hand and directly firing into the temple without prior hesitation, Kagami is only half surprised. Muraskibara shrugs.   
  
He gives it next to Aomine. Aomine, who moments before was showing some kind of resignation, is now looking mischievous. He spins the weapon in his hand.   
  
"Hey Testu? Thanks for trusting us."   
  
Kagami blinks.   
  
"Of course."  
  
Aomine grins, gives them all one last look (they all return it), and he fires.   
  
Kagami watches as Aomine's brain splatters on the floor while the blood taints everything nearby, including the faces of Kise and Midorima who were standing close, and when the body hits the ground the spell is broken.   
  
"Aomine Daiki has lost the game," Kuroko declares as he takes back the gun from Aomine's hand. "The Miracles are now down to four members. Last part of your punishment: dispose of the body."   
  
Akashi steps forward and motions for the others to follow. Muraskibara and Midorima wordlessly carry Aomine's body. Kise passes by Kagami, and gives him a crooked smile.   
  
"His decision."   
  
And then the Miracles exit the room, leaving behind Kuroko and Kagami. Kagami swallows.   
  
"You set it up?"   
  
"It had to look real," Kuroko replies. "Death is freedom."   
  
Kagami isn't sure.


End file.
